Break the Habit
by Esplodin' Ookami
Summary: Naruto Uzumaki, a chronic gambler, was the best crapshooter in NYC until he lost it all in a bet. Sasuke Uchiha, a young therapist, helps him pick up the pieces. With his life crumbling around him, Can Naruto break the habit? [DROPPED. READ NOTE.]
1. Prologue: Snake Eyes

Hooray. Here we have the weirdest idea for a fanfic I have ever had ever. Yay! And, yes, it was inspired by Guys and Dolls! WHEE!

This will be told mainly from Naruto's perspective in first person, with some of Sasuke's first person perspective, and normal third-person.

Orochimaru only appears in the prologue, but is mentioned several other times. He just fits into this fic so easily. And I made up his last name. It means Poisonous Snake.

My chapters will be short at first. I'm sorry. They will get longer over time, though.

So... I'll get on with it now.

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**Summary:** Naruto Uzumaki is a chronic gambler. He's the god of the casino scene. But hardly anyone can see past the perfectly structured poker face. He is feared because of that. He has no friends, excluding Kiba Inuzuka, his first friend, and a few other friends. Kiba strongly opposes Naruto's gambling, but can do nothing about it. But Naruto's life comes crashing down after he loses most of his money in a bet over a crap game. Enter Uchiha Sasuke, New York's Number one therapist. Can he get through to Naruto and help get his life back on track?

**Pairings:** (Definite)Eventual Naruto x Sasuke, Kiba x Gaara, and Kakashi x Ayame. Possible Sakura x Lee or Sakura x Ino, Maybe some Ino x Shikamaru, too. Tell me/vote on which of the possible pairings you like And I'll make them final. Request others and I'll see what I can do.

**Warnings:** Alcohol use, perhaps drug abuse, illegal gambling, many adult situations (NO LEMONS!), lime-ish-ness, AU, OOCness, Shounen-Ai, Het, Foul language, Possible Shoujo-Ai, and lots of suggestive content. (Wow. That's a lot of warnings.)

**Rating:**M for above warnings.

**Genres: **Romance, Angst, Drama, with humorous sprinkles here and there.

**Setting:** Various places, mainly an office in NYC, New York.

**Disclaimer:** Do you honestly think I own the Naruto series? If you do you are one seriously whacked-out, crazed-up fruit loop.

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Break the Habit  
Prologue - Snake Eyes**

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_They Call You Lady Luck_

_But There is Room for Doubt_

_At Times you Have a Very Unladylike_

_Way of Running Out._

* * *

"Snake eyes?"

"What?"

"SHIT!"

"DAMMIT! I bet a thousand on that roll!"

"Same with me!"

I was speechless, unlike my 'friends' who were seated around me, practically in tears. Did that just happen? Was that for real?

"I guess I won our little bet, eh Uzumaki?" The gloating voice of the bastard standing nearby chilled me to the bone.

"I guess you did, Orochimaru," I said lifelessly. I handed him a slip of paper, an IOU. If I didn't follow through with that IOU, I was dead where I stood. "I'll send the check over tomorrow 'round noon."

"Excellent," He hissed, narrowing his almost reptilian eyes. Why the fuck did I ever make that bet? I could've won an easy twenty-five thousand. But it was stupid of me. I was drunk. And now every cent I own is gone. Lady Luck just dumped me for that snake.

I gathered up my dice, kicking aside a few other gamblers before stiffly walking to the place I couldn't call my home anymore. The apartment was no longer mine. I was gonna have to sell it, seeing as I had no money to pay rent and other bills.

I bet you're confused, huh? That sucks for you. But just to clear some things up, I'll explain a bit.

My name is Naruto Uzumaki. I used to be the God of Gambling. Luck was always on my side. I never lost a bet. Never. Until that fateful day I made a bet with Orochimaru Dokuhebi.

I was drunk, and that jerk slithered into the bar just as I was getting ready to leave. He started talking to me. I knew that he was the second best crap shooter in NYC. I knew he was envious of me for having such good luck. So he decided he was gonna test my luck. He bet twenty-five thousand dollars that I would lose a simple dice roll. I, being smashed to the extreme, accepted. I was sure my fortune was gonna double. Boy, was I wrong.

After losing that roll, my life went downhill. But they always say every grey cloud's got a silver lining. And I now believe that no hill goes straight down forever. My help getting back uphill came in the form of some therapist with bad people skills. Why he was a guidance counselor, which is a very people-oriented job, and not some reclusive artist or whatever is beyond me.

But before I go into the matter of that weirdo, I've got some more to explain. Like why I'm living comfortably with people I love 'stead of out on the streets. That's thanks to my first and best friend, Kiba Inuzuka, and my father-figure, Kakashi Hatake.

After walking off to collect my few belongings and filling out the stupid check, I had left the apartment, explaining to my landlord what had happened before I left. He let me go right along. He's a pretty good friend of mine, and was pretty lenient because he knew about my problem. He didn't seem to have a problem with it, seeing as he had gone through it. But we did have a long talk about it that involved quite a few "I hope you learned your lesson" scoldings. I love that guy like a father. And I love his wife like a mother. Kakashi Hatake and Ayame Hatake are sort of like my adoptive parents. I was an orphan most of my childhood, and was taken in by a young couple without children of their own. I lived with them until I turned eighteen.

You're probably wondering what the fuck they have to do with my current situation. They don't have any relevance to the subject at hand. I got sidetracked.

My best friend, Kiba, has been my friend since third grade, when I started real school. Ayame had been home-schooling me up until that point. He said hi, I said hi, and we instantly bonded. He's the only other person besides Kakashi who knows about my addiction. And my gambling buddies? They think I do it for fun. But that's beside the point.

Kiba had always protested my gambling. But he never did a thing to stop me. At times, I wish he did. But what's done is done, and at least my problem's gone for good now.

Well, after "moving out," I turned to the first place on my list – Kiba's three-bedroom loft. Kakashi and Ayame lived in a spacious two-bedroom apartment, but the other room was occupied by Sakura Haruno, their adopted daughter. I was welcomed to Kiba's place with open arms, but was scolded for being a complete idiot after explaining why I was there. But everybody took this better than I thought. I thought I was going to be screamed at. I guess they knew it was going to happen sooner or later and had prepared for it. I was the definition of pitiful during those times.

But it was the day that Kiba brought up therapy for my addiction that altered my life forever. When I agreed (which took nearly four hours of being scolded, yelled at, and persuaded), I had just set my future in stone. But I had no idea about that. I just knew that I was getting much-needed help. And I cried myself to sleep that night, finally discarding my poker face. I cried in relief and fear. I knew that it was goin to be tough breaking my habit, but I was ready. But I was terrified, as well. Terrified of opening up. Not even Kiba knew what was locked away in my heart. But I was determined to break the habit, and once I realized that, I didn't care if I had to open up. And that's how it all began. With my newly found determination and confidence, I would beat my addiction and begin a new life. That was my resolution. My new dream. And nothing can stop Naruto Uzumaki from achieving his dream.

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And there we have it. The really short prologue. Yay. Review and you will receive plushies, cookies, cake, and many other delightful things.


	2. Chapter One: Therapy

So... Yeah. Uh. Chapter one. I didn't expect such a positive reaction. Four reviews! HECK YES.

If you've read what little I have so far, you'll know what warnings, pairings and such are involved. Don't like? DON'T READ.

Oh, and a free digital cookie to whoever can guess who 'blondie' is. Though it's rather obvious.

Oh, and some of the fic will be told in other points of view besides those already stated. Kiba and Gaara's POV's will be added, too.

And I know this question is going to come up sooner or later, and the answer is NO. Ayame is not an OC. She's the Ramen shop worker lady that is totally in love with Kakashi. Proof: Episode 101. Go watch it. It rocks.

As previously stated, OWN NARUTO I DO NOT. GET THAT THROUGH YOUR HEAD YOU MUST.

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Break the Habit**

**Chapter One - Therapy**

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Oh god. This is torture. I don't thank I can take much more. Damn you, Kiba. If this isn't over in the next minute I'm gonna throw myself out a window and onto the stree–

"Naruto Uzumaki?" I stood up, feeling much better. I brushed past the young blonde woman, who was apparently some assistant or whatever. She hurried in front of me, leading me to the office. I immediately felt uneasy. This shrink sure liked their privacy. Thick blinds covered the glass window on the door. Next to the door, a black plate was printed with the room number. Hesitantly, I opened the door. Miss blondie was long gone.

"Come on in," A blunt voiced called. I stepped into the dark room, chewing my lip anxiously. "You must be Mister Uzumaki."

"Yeah, that's me," I answered, reaching for the desk lamp on the table. I needed some light or my eyes were gonna fall out.

He flicked my hand away, turning the lamp on himself. When I beheld the room in its entirety, I gasped. It was a small cozy office. The desk was a dark cherry-colored wood, with a backwards-facing suede leather chair behind it. Shelves of psychology books lined the walls, along with various degrees. Overstuffed chairs and chaise lounges were scattered about the room. I sat down in a red chair, facing the desk.

"My name's Sasuke Uchiha. Your friend Kiba told me a lot about you. He sounds like a nice man," the man turned around in his chair, closing a book and setting it on his desk. I held my breath. This guy looked too young and way too cool to be a therapist.

"He is," I grunted, slouching in my chair a bit. I took a brief moment to examine the shrink, raising an eyebrow out of curiosity. The guy was good-looking, not that I'd ever say that out loud. He was thin, and seemingly well-built. He had shiny, perfect blue-black hair that was spiked slightly in the back, with two tendrils framing either side of his face. His eyes were dark, seemingly black. He certainly didn't look like the warm, caring, therapist-type to me.

"I see. So, Mister Uzuma–" I cut him off.

"I have a first name."

"Huh?"

"I have a first name. It's Naruto. The name by which I am addressed is not Uzumaki. It's Naruto," I hoped that I had gotten the point across.

"Hn," To this day, I still have no idea what the fuck that means.

"I came here for help, not some grumpy-ass jerk's random grunts," I growled, slumping further back into my chair.

"Very well. Let's get started," His voice was so monotonous. I hated it. I wanted to throw him out a window and laugh as I heard the splat. Unfortunately, was no window to be found.

"Hn," I mocked, rolling my eyes at him.

Ignoring me, the shrink continued. "Naruto, do you know why you're here?"

"Yeah," I grunted. What am I, stupid? I almost laughed at him. Of course I knew why I was there.

"Tell me why you're here."

"I have a gambling problem."

"I see."

"No shit, Sherlock," I growled. "Didn't Kiba say anything?"

"He may have mentioned something about gambling. He mainly talked about how much you need help," With that, he opened a desk drawer and pulled a small handheld game out. He began playing it, the annoying beeping noises making me long to claw his eyes out. "Do you know what I'm doing, Naruto?"

"Acting like an eight-year-old?" I asked, raising an eyebrow.

"No. I'm playing Poker," He drawled, not taking his eyes off the plastic thing.

I could feel myself begin to sweat. A good game of Seven Card Stud sure sounded like paradise to me right then. "Uh... um..."

"Would you like to play, Naruto?"

"Uh... n-no thank you," I bit my lip, resisting the evil tempting thing.

"DAMN RIGHT YOU DON'T!" He shouted, placing the game down with a bit too much force.

"...Eh?" I said stupidly. What was this guy, fucking bipolar? One minute he's all calm and concentrated and stuff and the next he's all shouty and evil.

"Congratulations. You have reached step two: Resistance," He said, looking at me with a small smirk.

"Wh-" I was definitely convinced he was bipolar. "What was step one?"

"Admittance and acceptance," I realized that when he had asked me why I was there, he was trying to get me to admit and accept.

"So you're saying I just unknowingly took two steps towards getting over the problem?"

"Yes."

"Holy shit. That's freaky. But it helped. I don't see how that works."

"And you never will."

"...Okay," I was too confused to say much else.

"So will you be continuing therapy sessions with me?" He asked, looking up from some clipboard that had magically made its way to his desk.

"If you can keep this up, then count me in."

"I can keep up the two-steps a session thing if you'd like, or I can work to my full potential and make it three," He said, writing something down on the paper that was attached to his clipboard.

"YES!" I said, wide-eyed.

"Good. We meet twice a week, on Wednesday and Saturday nights. Now leave my sight before I kick you out."

I nodded eagerly, rose from my chair, and hurried out of the room. I was finally on the way to achieving my goal. And nothing could stop me from getting there. NOTHING. And the freaky shrink, despite his attitude, would help me a lot more than I had imagined.

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Whee. Chapter one. It's short, but each new chapter will increase in size as time goes on.


	3. Chapter Two: Aftermath

Oh, my dear, delicious readers! I apologize for the long wait for this chapter! School... blah.

Holy spit. Lotsa reviews for Chapter One. I feel loved. Thanks for all the support.

For once, I have (almost) nothing to say. YAY!

This chapter is in a bunch of different perspectives. I'll put a break line and a little title for each new POV.

And... drumroll, please... introducing... GAARA! Gaara/Kiba is awesome. So yeah.

**Break the Habit -**

**Chapter Two-**

**Aftermath**

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**Kiba**

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Crash. Bang. Boom. Those were the typical sounds of Naruto's return home each day. Could he be any more NOISY? I was trying to sleep, dammit! 

"Lucy, I'm HOOOOOME!" He shouted. I HATED that line.

"Shove a sock in it, jerk!" I called, rolling over in my bed. I was extra grumpy that day 'cause some jerk in an extra-large SUV got MUDDY WATER on my burger. I had to feed it to Akamaru, and he didn't even like it!

"Jam a bastard in it, you crap!" He shouted back. I proceeded to laugh my ass off.

"How was it?" I asked, lazily walking into the living room.

"Weird. I swear, this shrink is bipolar or somethin," Naruto muttered, a shiver going down his spine.

"So it went well, then!" I grinned, and Akamaru proceeded to lick Naruto's hand fervently.

"Shut up. I'll be in my room if you need me or whatever," He scurried down the hall and out of sight. I was sure he was going to talk nonstop about his bipolar therapist at dinner.

But in the meantime, I was gonna fantasize about that hot, green-eyed bartender I saw earlier that day.

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**Sasuke**

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'_Ugh,_' I thought. '_Not another one,_' God, It's like they lived to bitch about their terrible childhood. Naruto was the best client I had ever talked to. He was way more entertaining than this stupid bastard I was pretending to listen to. I drifted away from my thoughts, and caught a bit of the crazy little fucker's story. 

"And," He sobbed, "They s-stole my POTATO CHIPS!" The poor guy exploded into hysterics. I held back a snicker, and glanced at the man.

"Did you ever consider that they were trying to help you lose weight? Or that it was in your best interest to NOT eat junk food?" I said dryly, glaring at him.

"W-well, no... I never thought about it that way. Wow. Shikamaru really DOES care!" The guy jumped up and skipped away, causing my lamp to fall over.

"Another job well done, Sasuke dearest. Give yourself a pat on the back," I said sarcastically, mocking my assistant. Then I proceeded to plan out my next visit with that entertaining gambling addict.

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**Naruto**

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Ugh. Hardly anything bothers me more than when there's NOTHING on TV! But that day was the worst. The only thing on was Soap Operas, Infomercials, and** FUCKING TALK SHOWS! **It was enough to make me want to pound the TV screen in. But I resisted, merely throwing the remote at the tiny, outdated television. I groaned, rolling over in my bed. There was too much on my mind for me to be able to enjoy TV, anyways. 

"Stupid bipolar therapist," I mumbled into my pillow. It wasn't that I was on the verge of a mental breakdown or anything, but I had other things on my mind. I was actually pretty level headed about my problem. But it was that stupid, pretty-boy shrink that I couldn't get off my mind. I remembered feeling that way in sixth grade, when I had my first crush. I laughed that off, though. "Me? Have a crush on crazy bipolar counselor GUY? No way!" I laughed some more, almost to the point that I peed my pants.

When Kiba called me for dinner, I bolted out of my room and into the dining room. Ah, Kiba's homemade pizza! I still preferred those neat little Japanese noodle things, though. What were they called again? Oh, yeah! Ramen! I loved that stuff. Still do. But I'm getting sidetracked.

"So, tell me about this bipolar shrink of yours," Kiba said through a mouthful of cheese.

"Well, he's crazy, he's a pretty-boy, and he's way to young and cool to be a shrink, and he's BIPOLAR. And he wouldn't let me play a video game!" I listed, glaring at Kiba, who was wide-eyed at this point.

"Wow. Okay. Sure," Kiba stuttered. He shoved another piece of pizza into his mouth. I could tell he wasn't interested in how the session went.

"And how was your day?" I asked, changing the subject.

"I've had better."

"Well, who pissed in your wheaties?" I sardonically said, irritated by his less-than happy tone.

"Some JERK got MUDDY WATER on my BURGER. And not even Akamaru would eat it!" Kiba was strangling his napkin at this point. I held back hysterical laughter.

"There must've been SOMETHING good that happened to you today."

"Err, well... I did see this bartender today, and..." He blushed, looking down at the table.

"Aw. How cute. Didja catch a name?" Heh, I knew all about Kiba's little Bi-curious thing. Hell, I was the first one he told.

"I heard somebody say 'Gaara,' but I'm not sure..." The color of his face almost matched the red tribal tattoos that marked his cheeks.

"Hm. What does he look like?" I asked, trying to see how red his face could get.

"He has red hair, and green eyes. There's a tattoo on his forehead that means some Japanese word. He uses way too much eyeliner, and apparently eyebrow wax is his best friend," Kiba had said it as if he had read it directly off some trading card.

"Err, okay. Sure. Let's go with that," I was a bit scared.

Kiba stuffed another slice of pizza in his mouth, obviously avoiding conversation. I decided it was best not to bother him.

Dinner was relatively silent that night.

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**Gaara**

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I stared off into space as I sat wearily on my bed, pondering that day's events. Hm, relatively uninteresting. I flopped down onto the soft bedspread, wondering why I even had a bed. I was an insomniac, and not exactly proud of it. My older siblings kept telling me to try to get help. I wondered if there was a phonebook nearby. Yes, there was. In my night stand. Just like a hotel room. 

"Hello?" I said dully. Some girl had answered the phone. "Is this the Uchiha Guidance office?"

"_It sure is. May I help you?" _Her voice was annoyingly feminine. It annoyed me.

"I have this insomnia thing, and I was wondering if counseling would help."

"_Have you tried any medicines or consulted any psychiatric evaluators?"_

"Yes, I have. Nothing has worked so far, and the last guy said to try out guidance..." I was still staring off into space.

"_Hmm, Let me see what times we have available... Ah, Here we are! Next Wednesday at Four. Can you make it?"_

"Yes."

"_Great! Next Wednesday at Four. We hope to see you soon!"_ Click. Pause. Dial tone.

I hung up the phone, then proceeded to build myself a pillow fort and try to catch half an hour of sleep before staying up for the next twenty four hours.

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**Naruto**

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Sleep did not come easily to me that night. The whole guidance thing was on my mind, and it wouldn't leave me alone. I had so many questions to ask Sasuke on Saturday. When will I be all better? Will the addiction stay in control if I'm near a casino or something of the like? Did he have a counselor, too? Okay, that last one was a joke. But I was still gonna ask him. How could somebody stay so level-headed without having a weekly 'vent' time to release emotion? If he kept it bottled up all the time, I figured that his head would've exploded by then. But it hadn't. So I dropped it, and almost immediately I fell asleep. 

Dreams are not always happy. In this particular one, I was being chased by a deck of cards and a slot machine. Not exactly the best dream an ex-gambler can have. I woke up just as the slot machine was going to pounce on me. Damn, I was sweating. Stupid Kiba and his way-too-hot heating system. I turned on my electric fan and changed into a short-sleeve T shirt and boxers. Much better than my comfy yet too-warm pajamas.

I slept dreamlessly for the next eight or so hours, and woke up to a dreary, rainy day.

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Whee. Chapter Two.


	4. Chapter Three: Questions

Mmm-hmm. Yes. Reviews. Delicious reviews. I love reviews. They make me WRITE MORE.

This chapter is dedicated to Streetwise, the first reviewer for Chapter two!

I am doing a tiny little time skip or two, because I don't want to explain what happened over the course of three days. So yes. Tidbits of the day after therapy and Naruto's NEXT SESSION!

All of this chapter will be told in Naruto's Point of view, as will most of them.

NOTE: So far, the time of year in this fic is NOVEMBER.

Another Note: Naruto and everybody who is not one of Naruto's corrupt relatives is around 22 or 23. Sasuke's that young because he skipped an assload of grades in highschool or something. Yay.

I do not own the Fruit Loops company. I just used that brand because I like the word fruit loop. Please don't sue. (Oh, and I don't own Naruto, either. But you already knew that.)

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**Break The Habit-**

**Chapter Three-**

**Questions**

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I had just woken up, and already had the feeling that my day was going to be less than great. The rain was pounding heavily on my window, and I gave it the finger. It proceeded to pound harder on my window, and I staggered lazily out of my bedroom.

"G'Morning, sunshine!" Kiba sarcastically yelled from the kitchen. Hyperactive dog-man was at it again. The 'let's see how mad I can make Naruto' game was quickly becoming one of his favorites.

"Have any good wet dreams last night, lover boy?" I took my seat at the table, smirking at Kiba's quickly coloring face.

"Uh, well... um..." Hah! He had no good retaliation for that one.

I decided to press him further. "Oh! Ahhh! Faster, Kiba! Mmm... Yes, yes, yes, YES!" I was good at making those noises. I had used it numerous times to scare off door-to-door salesmen, solicitors, and various other annoyances..

Kiba was banging his head on the counter top, muttering things like "roadkill," "rap music," and "Soap Operas" under his breath. I knew that mantra by heart. Kiba uttered it whenever he was ... excited. "I really regret befriending you sometimes."

"I love you, too," I proceeded to pour myself a glass of milk, ignoring Kiba's loud cursing.

"Piss off," He grumbled, returning to his pancake batter. "You better be thankful I feed you such wonderful, delicious delicacies such as this."

Right as he said that, the blue flame under the stove burner went out. The oven began rumbling, and the digital clock began flashing. The rumbling soon stopped, and the clock stopped completely.

"Oh..." I began.

"Shit," Kiba finished.

"Um... I think I'll just have some Fruit Loops or something..."

Kiba fell to his knees and began mourning the loss of his faithful oven. "Sh-she was s-so dependable!" he sobbed.

"Kiba, stop blubbering and go buy a new oven or something," I kicked him. "That one was outdated, anyway."

"I will as soon as I have the money, jackass," I could've sworn I saw tears welling in his dark brown eyes.

"Heh. Maybe You need therapy, too," Before I knew it, there was some sort of kitchen utensil being hurled at me. I heard Kiba storming off, muttering something under his breath. I couldn't hear it, mainly because my face was stinging where the hot spatula had made contact with it. "He must be PMSing or somethin'."

While I was trying to find a reflective object to see if the burn was serious or not, Kiba was in his room, pounding a pillow into oblivion. "FUCK, FUCK, FUCK, FUCK, FUCK!" He screamed. I could hear it from the kitchen, and his room was the farthest from it.

"Shit. I guess that wasn't the best time to make a joke," I smacked myself with the shiny spoon I was holding. "Time to do a good deed."

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**Time Skip! Yay!**

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"Iruka, he exploded. I'm serious. He needs a new one," I was on the phone with Iruka Umino, a second father figure in my life. He was my adoptive uncle, and was practically family. He was a kind man, who somehow became friends with my crazy-ass 'dad' in elementary school. Iruka was also friends with the owner of some home appliance store, and he got free crap all the time.

"_Hm... If I can pull a few strings, I'm sure I can get you a new one, half-price."_

"Nnnng. I don't have the moooneeeey," I whined.

"_Hm... fine. This is free. Think of it as an early Christmas gift. Or late birthday gift. Or maybe a super late Christmas gift and a really early birthday gift, or maaaybe..."_

"WILL YOU SHUT UP? I just need the stupid oven."

"_Mmkay. It'll get there by Saturday. Promise. See you soon, Naruto!"_ Click.

I hung up. What did he mean by 'soon?' I couldn't think of any upcoming holidays... wait. "Oh, joy. Thanksgiving Dinner at Kakashi's house. This will prove to be interesting," I scowled. "Maybe I should bring Sasuke. Maybe he can put everyone in their right minds again," I laughed, then walked into the living room.

Much to my confusion, I saw the person I was currently feuding with. He was seated on the couch, watching TV. I could almost see his brains oozing out his ears. It was strange, because he was intent on staying in his room for a week.

He turned his head, and his gaze met mine. "Oh. Hello," He said blankly.

"Kiba, stop. This isn't you. The Kiba I know shoves pretzel sticks up his nose on a regular basis. And I see no pretzels up your nose. So I know you're not of sound mind," I sighed in concern.

"Hmpf."

"Well, fine. But I just wanted you to know that I got a present for you. It'll be here by Saturday. So stop acting like a prick and PERK THE FUCK UP."

His expressionless face faltered as he heard the word 'present.' "What? A gift? After I tossed a burning spatula at your face?" He pointed to the band-aid that covered most of my cheek.

"Yes, ma'am," I said affirmitively. "I mean sir."

Kiba muttered something about corrupt 22-year-olds and glanced at me again. "Seriously? You forgive me?"

"It's you who should be forgiving me," I grumbled, flopping back onto the couch.

"Heh, I do."

"Wonderful," I said. "Oh, and Akamaru pissed on the floor again."

"WHAT?"

* * *

**Time Skip! Again!**

* * *

The next few days went by smoothly. Kiba got his oven, and almost crushed my ribs while thanking me. After that, it was boring. But before I knew it, it was therapy time again.

It wasn't the therapy I disliked. Oh no. It was the WAITING. But there never seemed to be anybody there before me. I never passed anyone in the hall on my way in. Hm. Strange. Maybe the time before my sessions was Sasuke's time to plan how to scare the fuck out of people. I just knew it. I still had those questions to ask him. I entered the office, and sat down in the same red chair.

"Good morning," I said cheerfully.

"It's not morning."

"You just had to go and ruin my fun, didn't you, bastard?" I frowned, glaring holes into Sasuke's forehead.

"That's what I'm here for. So tell me what's been going on lately."

"Well, I had a dream about being chased by cards and a slot machine, Kiba's oven died, and there are steroids in macaroni."

Sasuke raised an eyebrow. "What was that about macaroni?"

"It's just a theory, but I'm working on it. Word is that the government is trying to slow birth rate, and is putting steroids in macaroni in order to make mens'... y'know... shrink like mother fucking shrinky-dinks. And everybody knows that women hate tiny dicks. So yeah," Fucking government and their clever birth-control alternative.

Sasuke's eye twitched. "Maybe I'm not the right type of doctor for you. I know a very prestigious psychologist, and I'm sure he can find the perfect medication for your condition..."

"Fuck, no! I'm not a _total_ basket case. Plus, it's just a stupid theory,. I didn't make it up, I swear. I heard the government thing from some website, okay? I'm not a fucking psychopath!" I was holding back hysterical laughter. I wanted to see how much I could make him twitch before his eye exploded.

"Yeah. Sure. Okay," He muttered skeptically.

"You better fucking believe me," I threatened.

"Hn."

"HN."

"Okay, so tell me more about this dream of cards and slot machines."

"Well, I was in this casino, right? And I had no idea why I was there. And a wedding was going on nearby. But then some random deck of cards lunged at me. And then a slot machine chased after me. And right when it pounced, I woke up."

"Strange," He said blankly."

I rose from my seat and jumped on his desk., staring directly at him. "Why the fuck are you so stoical?" I asked, adding a question to my list of things to ask him that day.

He was silent, then it seemed like a lightbulb went off in his head. "Because, loser, I have to be. I can't show emotion because I work to help others with their emotions. I can't let them think for a second that I have inner turmoil," Shit. That was a good reason.

"I have more questions for you, Uchiha," I narrowed my eyes, feeling somewhat angered. Maybe I was jealous of his trouble-free demeanor? He didn't seem to have any addictions or problems or anything. So in true human fashion, I got mad.

"Fire away."

"When will I get over my stupid addiction?"

"In time."

"I need to know WHEN, Uchiha!"

He frowned. "Sasuke."

"What?" My face softened a bit.

"I have a name. It's Sasuke. Stop calling me Uchiha. You've never done it before, so why start now?"

I growled, then shifted my weight on the desk. My knees began to tremble, and I knew what was coming. I braced myself for impact.

"Naruto, what the hell–" He never finished. I fell over on him, toppling his chair backwards. My head made painful contact with his, and I gasped inwardly.

'_Shit, shit, shit.'_ I thought as I stared wide-eyed down at Sasuke, who was just as shocked. I knew what was going on. I pulled back suddenly, and huddled under his desk.

Neither one of us spoke. We just stared. Sasuke was still in his chair, limbs spread out.

I decided to finally speak. "Shit."

"Ditto."

* * *

Yay. Chapter three, yo. I liked writing that oh-so awkward scene in Sasuke's office. 'Twas fun.

If you can't guess what happened, I will beat you with Kiba.

Review and you shall receive cake, cookies, or a bishounen plushie of your choice.


	5. Chapter Four: Bushel and a Peck

Like whoa. My Hard drive crashed, and I lost ALL MY DOCUMENTS. I was PISSED. So Here I am, RE-WRITING Chapter Four. But, I have more ideas now! So Yay!

I got tons of reviews for chapter three. I love you all!

If I owned Naruto, Gaara would be somewhat happy and Hinata wouldn't stutter. No, I do not own Naruto, nor do I own anything else mentioned in this fic.

* * *

**Break The Habit-**

**Chapter Four-**

**Bushel and a Peck**

* * *

After the embarrassing ordeal, we regained composure and I bitched about the things that troubled me. Immediately after complaining about getting a mouth full of sand when I was twelve, something clicked in my head. Where were the 'steps' Sasuke had talked about?

"HEY! You said three steps a session!" I glared at him, remembering what I had been told last time.

"Well, this 'getting all that off your chest' stage may take more than one session. We'll go to the multiple step plan as soon as possible," He said, folding his hands in front of his face.

I growled and toppled intentionally out of my chair, hitting my head on the floor. "WHY? WHY?" After I was done being a drama queen, I sat back up in my chair. "You better have something REALLY good to compensate for this, bastard."

"Already done," He proceeded to open a desk drawer and hand me an envelope.

"What in all hells is this?" I asked, holding the damn thing like it was a bomb or a paper towel stuffed with remnants of Akamaru's supper.

"Open it, dumbass."

I did, and gasped when I saw what it contained. I proceeded to dance around like a happy little child. "How did you know?"

"Kiba told me a bit too much about you. Plus, I think that you will find this particular play rather familiar." He had some sort of knowing smirk on his face. If I had known therapists gave gifts, I would have been in therapy ages ago.

I would never admit it to somebody who wasn't Kiba or Sasuke, but I loved Broadway. I loved going to see plays at the theatre, and I loved feeling like I wasn't seeing a play, but witnessing actual events. It may sound like a totally gay thing, but to me it wasn't. So there.

"If you want," I said, sitting back down in my chair, "you can come with me." My eyes met the floor. I was biting my lip, hyperventilating, and blushing just a little. I didn't know why I was so embarrassed. Maybe I felt like I was asking him out on a date? Hm... maybe. Maybe that's how I felt. But oh fucking well. He accepted, anyways.

After another fifteen minutes of bitching about shit, I made my way home. A look of horror crept its way onto my face as I gazed at the terrifying (yet... sexy, in a weird, twisted way) scene taking place on the overstuffed couch.

They didn't even acknowledge my presence, much less notice it. Muffled moans elicited from the red, brown, and fleshy mass that was squirming around on the furniture.

"Nnnng, Gaara... I'm gonna... I'm..." I recognized that as Kiba's voice. I decided against being an ass and snuck back to my room, silently shutting the front door as well as my own. In my fit of terror, I hadn't noticed how red my face was from embarrassment. There was blood rushing to other places, as well. I bit my lip, squeezed my eyes shut and thought happy thoughts. But the thoughts somehow turned naughty and I had to smack myself in the face to make it stop.

When I heard the loud cry of "GAARA" and the somewhat less loud moan of "K-Kiba", I tried not to laugh. But I was gonna scare the shit out of Kiba later, then whine about him being a jerk until he fed me gourmet delicacies out of guilt and sorrow. Life was good.

* * *

**Gaara**

* * *

'_Oh. My. Fucking. God. Thank you, Temari,' _I silently thanked my sister, who got me the bartending job at her boyfriend's club. Kiba leaned in for one last kiss before cuddling up to my bare chest and spacing out completely. Now normally, I would cut off my own arm before showing emotion. But what the fuck are you supposed to do when the most attractive being on the face of the planet shows up at the bar, sweet-talks you into a date or three, then lets you fuck him senseless? I decided that emotions were sometimes a good thing.

"Kiba, I had a really great time tonight," I whispered huskily into his ear, causing his tattooed cheeks to turn completely red. "We should do this again sometime..."

"A-anytime you want, Gaara," He said, looking up at me with half-lidded eyes. How fucking cute. If I weren't so exhausted, I would have grabbed him and prepared him for another round. But I'm only human, so of course I decided to remain somewhat lethargic.

"This couch... it's a bit small... do you mind if I spend the night in your room?" I smirked weakly, moving a hand across my sweaty forehead.

"Not at all..." He said, slowly moving to get up. When a pain-stricken expression overcame his once-blissful face, I frowned.

"I wouldn't mind carrying you, Kiba." With that, I picked him up (with a bit of difficulty, mind you), and carried him to his room. It was sort of obvious which room was his, because his door had scratches on it from that big dog attempting to get in. The poor thing. I supposed Kiba occasionally left the dog outside of his room when he needed 'alone time.' Whatever he did alone was none of my business.

Once we were situated in the large, comfortable bed, I decided to mark my territory. I seated Kiba in my lap, and sucked gently on his neck. Occasionally, I'd lick behind his ear or blow gently on his back, just to see it arch in pleasure.

I had the best sleep of my life that night. I slept for eight hours, and didn't wake up once. Maybe I didn't need therapy, after all.

* * *

**Naruto**

* * *

After their super happy sexy orgasm explosion thing, I didn't hear much else. Just the soft sound of footfalls on the carpet, and the opening and closing of a door. I was surprised that Kiba's bed wasn't rocking. I was somewhat thankful for the silence. I had no intention of hearing them suck face and cuddle.

Then it hit me like a ton of bricks. I had kissed Sasuke that day. Gag. Shudder. Wince. Blush. I remembered that there was a slight spark of some unidentified emotion when I had fallen on him, but I had assumed it was the shock of falling or the shock of kissing someone. On impulse, I raised my hand to my mouth and lightly touched my lips. Then I bit myself, acting on the most random of thoughts. OW! That hurt.

After a while, I decided to stop abusing myself by turning on the radio. I heard 'Dani California,' 'Almost,' and 'Dance, Dance.' My heart almost stopped when 'Breaking the Habit' started. That song hit close to home. Dammit. I had promised myself that I wouldn't be difficult about this addiction shit. But the stupid song was drawing me in, and I suddenly felt like breaking down. Fuck. I switched the radio to a different station, and sighed in relief as 'Sexyback' began.

I didn't really listen to the song, but it was nice background music as I pondered my thoughts. I understood why therapy was gonna be so much more serious. Sasuke didn't want me to experience the dark side of addiction breaking. I didn't want to experience, it either. I didn't want to feel the pain of having my progress unravel just because a pair of dice caught my eye. I didn't want the horrible burden of temptation versus virtue. Dammit, I needed a beer. But I didn't dare venture outside my room because of the two fuckbunnies across the hall. Briefly, I wondered if I'd ever have somebody that passionate about me. But I barely knew any girls. I knew a few who were ugly-as-fuck, a few who were total slutbags, and one who was my adopted sister. And I wasn't that interested in girls, anyway. In my life, I had crushed on a total of one girl. That's not much. And I preferred the company of guys, anyway. In fact, I had crushed on a boy in the eighth grade. But I'm getting off topic.

Then my mind wandered to the tickets Sasuke had given me. No doubt I was gonna invite Gaara and Kiba, but I had invited _Sasuke_. A guy I barely knew. He probably knew me really well, and all I knew was his name. I would admit that he was a very attractive person, and seemed like he'd make good company. A good person to talk to. He already knew my innermost thoughts and desires, so who else would make a good companion? I suddenly blushed. He would make a good friend... or boyfriend... dammit, I was confused. But the good news was that I heard soft snoring after turning my radio off. Now I could go get a few sodas, beers, and some food and hide in my room until Gaara left. I tiptoed down the hall, then into the kitchen. I saw the living room from where I was standing, and it was not at all a pretty sight. Fresh stains were all over the couch and clothes were spread idly about the room. "Ew."

After grabbing to armfuls of food and drink, I tiptoed back to my room and proceeded to barricade myself in there. After the second miniature bag of Famous Amos cookies, I started to get drowsy. Damn cookies. Or maybe it was the fact that I was dog tired and needed sleep. Yeah. It was probably the second one.

Setting down my various foodstuffs, I stripped down to my boxers and went to bed, falling asleep the minute my head hit the pillow.

* * *

Okay, so it wasn't as long as I'd like, but at least it's an update. HUZZAH!


	6. Chapter Five: I'll Just Know

OH, MY DEAR BELOVED READERS! I AM SO SORRY! I just moved to a new house around Late October, and we had no internet till December. And to top it all off, My stupid laptop DIED The day I went to go start this chapter. It was an issue with my Hard Drive and it sucked ass. So again, I apologize for the terribly long wait.

Umm... YES! Limes! This chapter is sorta PWP and stuff, but I needed to write something light and humorous. Drama later. Smex now. Oh, and it's NOT a confession of love. It's admittances of a crush. I have confessions all planned out in my mind.

And to my reviewer who questioned Gaara being tops: I had a huge argument with myself over it. I decided to make them INTERCHANGEABLE! YAY!

I was thinking about writing a KibaGaaraKiba side story oneshot. Should I?

I don't own Naruto. Nor do I own a good laptop!

**Break the Habit -**

**Chapter Five -**

**I'll Just Know**

I woke up with an excruciating pain in my stomach. "Ugh. Too many cookies," I moaned as I rolled headfirst out of my small bed. "Must... find... Pepto Bismol..." When I found the pink bottle, I rejoiced and thanked the gods of indigestion relief. Within minutes I had downed the necessary dosage and was crawling towards my door. Then I remembered. "OH, SHIT! THE FUCKBUNNIES!" I groaned and decided to accept severe mental scarring. It was either that or piss out of a window. I squeezed my eyes shut and rose to my feet. Then I tumbled out the door and dashed to the bathroom.

After I was finished, I was shocked to see a red-headed guy on all fours, scrubbing down the couch. "Um... I think you're at the wrong house. The McSmiths live _next_ door. They're the ones who would order maid servi–" I was cut off by the second most terrifying, intense glare I had ever received. Then something clicked. "OH SHIT! YOU'RE GAARA!" I ran screaming into the kitchen, where I ran into a severely limping Kiba and a worried-looking Akamaru.

"OW! WHAT THE FUCK?" The moody dog man snarled. I didn't feel as intimidated byu his glare, though. Mainly because he had an assortment of half-cooked sausages in his lap and somehow tangled in his hair. I could think of a million jokes about that, but I didn't dare utter one.

"Oh! I'm sorry!" I tried to seem innocent. It didn't work. Kiba lowered his voice and stared blankly at me.

"You have five minutes to get dressed, get a granola bar, and get the FUCK OUT. You are welcome to bring a backpack full of a few belongings and some cookies. You are to stay out of my house until I call you, offering an apology and a plate full of cheese blintzes. GOT IT?"

"Yes mister boss man sir ma'am sir." I saluted and scampered off. After packing some belongings and dressing myself, I grabbed the book I was reading and scrambled out the front door. I dashed down the stairs of the complex and stood on the sidewalk, trying to figure out where to go. I was just about to start walking again when something fell out of my book. It was a small business card that read _"Sasuke Uchiha, Therapist," _The next line read, _"Need to get something off your chest? Do you hate yourself? Is it always raining in your heart? We can help,"_ I laughed at that one. Then I skipped down to the phone numbers. "Hello, what's this?" I muttered as I read the bottom line. _"For emergency help, Call Doctor Uchiha's Home or cell at 555-3247 and 555-3825." _I raised an eyebrow and proceeded to grab my cell phone from my sweater pocket. Before I knew what I was doing, I was waiting for Sasuke to pick up the phone.

"Hello?" A sleepy, disheveled-sounding voice came from the other line.

"Uh, hey, Sasuke. It's Naruto."

Every trace of sleepiness left his voice. "Oh Shit. Where are you, who was it, an d how much did you bet?"

I almost laughed. "No, no! I didn't gamble. I just need somewhere to go until Kiba gets over PMS and Gaara leaves the house."

"Oh. Alright then," He sighed, obviously relieved. "I'll tell you where to find my apartment, okay?"

"Awesome. Where can I find you?" He told me where his apartment was and soon I was riding a fun little elevator to the top floor of some ritzy apartment deal. I got to the floor punched in the code Sasuke had told me, and I entered the hall. I saw but two doors. One was the door to Sasuke's apartment. The other turned out to be a door leading to a fire-escape stairway type thing.

I knocked on the door, and almost fainted at what I saw. There stood Sasuke, who looked a lot shorter when not wearing dress clothes and seated behind a desk. But it wasn't the height that shocked me, it was what he was wearing. A long, cream-colored nightshirt barely covered his legs, leaving little to the imagination. On the nightshirt was a pack of wolves, howling at something. His normally neat black hair was tangled and limp, hanging loosely over his face. To put it simply, he was fucking **_HOT. _**I regained my bearings and worked up the courage to speak. "You look like a girl, bastard."

"It was either this or answer the door naked, loser." He smirked up at me, one obsidian-colored eye hidden by his bangs. "C'mon in." It was not a good situation, because most of my blood was rushing south and it was going _fast. _I had a mental picture of Sasuke in his birthday suit, and it wouldn't go away. And the fact that I was having naughty thoughts about a GUY who I was not familiar with was very creepy. Almost creepy enough to kill my arousal. As I desperately tried to hide my, uh, problem, he was looking at me funny. I tried to create a diversion.

"You, uh, have a penthouse?"

"What were you expecting, a barnyard?" His voice was smoother than satin, even though it was drenched in sarcasm and mirth. That only made the blood flow faster.

"Uh, no..."

"Mm. Well, today is my day off. My dear brother fills in for me on Thursdays and Tuesdays and sometimes Fridays. Today is that Friday."

"Oh! You have a brother?" Great! I had a distraction.

"Uh, yeah... Um, Naruto? Are you feeling alright? You keep hunching over and you look sorta pale..."

"Why do you care?" I asked, still hiding the bulge.

"I'm your therapist! I have to settle deep inside your mind and get to know you in order to help you. Now if you'll excuse me, I need a donut."

I watched as he retreated to his amazingly large and modernized kitchen. But it wasn't the stunning technology I was looking at, if you catch my drift. I whined softly as he stretched his entire body out in order to reach a box sitting atop his refrigerator. He grabbed a cream-filled glazed donut, then placed the box back atop the fridge. He then opened the fridge and grabbed the milk. And he chugged it right out of the carton. Several escaped droplets rolled down his pale face, and the satisfied sighing sound he made when he was finished sent me over the edge.

"Ineedtousetherestroom!" I shouted.

"First door on your left," He called, and I was in the restroom withing two point thirty-six seconds. I moaned quietly as I tried to relieve the pleasurable throbbing going on down there, and soon I was satisfied and relaxed. I disposed of all evidence and hurried back into the living room, where I was horrified to see that he still had no pants. But what made me almost shriek out load was when he took a bite of that donut. That stupid fucking donut. With its stupid cream-filled center and sexiness and...

"You were in there a while. I hope you didn't stink it up."

I grinned. "No. I just had to piss a lot." I was a fucking awesome liar.

His left eye twitched. "Thanks for that..."

"So, you do this with all your clients?" I asked, feeling some sort of curiosity mixed with something else.

"Nope. Just the really crazy ones." He smirked at my horrified expression, and then chuckled slightly. "I'm kidding. And no. You're the first."

I was slightly relieved by this, but I didn't know why. "Hey, doc? You're tryin' to wiggle into my brain, so how 'bout I pry into your life?"

"Go ahead, shoot."

"Umm... Family?"

"Older Brother." He looked somewhat bored.

"Friends?"

"You're the closest thing I've got to one." He said it stoically, but I could tell that there was some emotion behind it.

"Wow. I'm touched. Uh... Love life?"

"None whatsoever." He laughed at himself. "I feel like such a dork."

"Have you ever considered that maybe you're asexual? Or... dare I say it... Gay?" I said the last word with some kind of unfamiliar feeling bubbling up inside me. It couldn't possibly have been...

He laughed at my question and sighed. "I already know I'm gay! I just haven't figured out who I'm gay for."

"How will you know when you find him?" I asked.

"I'll just know." He shrugged and leaned back in his chair

I smiled, muscling my way past the fucking butterflies on steroids flapping around in my diaphragm. "Sometimes I feel that way."

"What do you mean?"

"Well, sometimes I feel like I have no sexual orientation. I'll just take what life chucks at me."

"Weird. But oddly arousing." He watched , laughing, as my eyes widened to the size of saucers.

"Can I tell you something?" I asked, blushing.

"Go ahead. It's my job to listen. Or pretend to, anyways."

I snickered, then looked up. "Remember when I fell on you, and that thing happened?"

Sasuke blushed, the pastel pink lighting up his pale cheeks. "Y-yeah."

"It was my first kiss." I quickly looked down and bit my lip.

He chuckled amiably. "No shit? Mine too!"

I felt somehow proud and relieved. But I didn't let it show. "Hah, we're both losers!"

"Hooray!" He then realized everything that was wrong with what he had uttered.

"Umm, I have a question, though." I said, blushing.

"G-go ahead."

"Does the cleaning person use a statically-charged vacuum on the carpet in your office?"

"What the fuck? No."

"Oh. Okay." So the spark I had felt... it wasn't vacuum static, was it? I was confused.

"Why did you..." He tilted his head to one side, an adorably quizzical look on his face.

I practically melted. Okay, so Uchiha was fuckin' hot. Big whoop! It wasn't like I was attracted to him or anything! Was it? "Uh, no reason. I just get shocked a lot when I touch things or move a lot." I was the best liar EVER.

"Then don't do that!" He hissed. It was obvious he was kidding, though.

"Yes, ma'am," I muttered, turning away.

"Good bo– WAIT! Are you questioning my masculinity?"

"And what if I am?" I asked, mischief level rising.

"You asshole."

"You're the one wearing a girly nightshirt without pants!" I grinned widely, watching his anger rise.

"At least I had the decency to put on a shirt! How would you like it if I answered the door NUDE?"

'_A whole fucking lot.'_ "Not a lot." I was getting kind of turned on, though.

"See? In a battle between girly and naked, I'd choose girly. Okay?"

'_It's a win-win situation, though.' _My inner pervert had woken up, and there was no stopping him. "Hmm. I'd like it either way." My eyes had narrowed, and I felt like a starving dog in a meat locker. Hungry.

"Wh-what?" His eyes got wide, and he bit his lip. For a brief second, I wondered how those soft lips would taste a second time around.

"You'd look amazing in anything or nothing. Though I'd like to see that second one..." I tried to stop myself, but it was a losing battle. I moved closer to him, feeling hotter and hotter with each step. His cheeks only grew darker and darker.

To my surprise, he didn't run away. He just looked... out of it. As I moved to kiss him, he instantly responded. I desperately tried to regain control of myself, but unrelieved sexual tension had gotten the best of me. I deepened the kiss, and Sasuke allowed it. We just stood there, eyes closed, and making out like horny teenagers. When we parted for air, Sasuke blushed and looked at his feet. "Wh-what was th-that?"

"I don't know, but it sure was hot." My inner pervert had only half-retreated, his needs not yet fulfilled.

"I–" He cut himself off, and pulled me in for another kiss. It caught me by surprise, but my eyes were quick to shut. This one was shorter, and less deep, but it was still hot.

"I don't know why I'm so attracted to you. When I was with other clients, all I could think about was 'the interesting gambling addict' and how to help him get better. I had thought you were a very good-looking guy, a-and," He smiled slightly, "I think I have a crush on you, Naruto."

I blushed, not expecting that so soon. "I-I was gonna say... I l-like you, too." We just stood there, basking in the awkward silence, when Sasuke wrapped his arms around me and kissed me lightly on the lips. Soon, we were n his couch, groping each other like crazy and shoving our tongues down each others' throats. And quite shortly after that, it turned into hip gyrating and loud moaning. Needless to say, we were both very 'excited.'

After we were spent from that extreme makeout session, we were half on the floor, half on the couch, panting like long-haired dogs in the middle of the desert during Summer.

"Hey, Sasuke?" I whispered.

"Hn?"

"Kiss me again, please?" I blushed, feeling silly for asking that.

"Oh. Uh... sure." He smiled, kissed me once more, and we settled down for a quick nap. But before I went to sleep, I wondered if I was rushing this. I wondered if I needed to get to know him better before fucking him, like my inner pervert was encouraging me to do. I decided to put sex on hold for a while until we were ready and in love. I hoped that the relationship would last that long, and soon fell asleep with my face buried in his hair.

_Sasuke_

When I woke up, I felt absolutely blissful. But I was also hungry. But something was keeping me from getting up and going to the kitchen. Naruto. I blushed and smiled at the thought, remembering our rendezvous on the couch. I wasn't going to say I loved him, but I was certainly strongly attracted him. I gently moved his arms away from my waist and headed to the kitchen. I had three cookies and a glass of milk, then I began to miss the taste of Naruto on my lips. Sure, cookies were great, but Naruto was much better.

I decided that I missed his warmth, but I didn't want to make him all horny again, so I went to find some pajama pants. Or at least boxers. I was successful in my search, finding grey plaid flannel pants and black socks to warm my freezing cold feet. I scurried back to Naruto, and nestled back into his arms. He was very warm. Better than my deluxe super extra awesome personal space heater, even. I sighed happily and went back to sleep, Naruto's arms around my waist.

When I woke up, my oversized heater was gone, and I heard loud and colorful cursing coming from my kitchen. "NO! BAD TOASTER! BAD!"

I groaned and got up, staggering into he kitchen. Naruto immediately blushed and turned around when he sensed I was there, grinning like an idiot. "Hey, Sasuke!"

"Naruto. What are you doing?" I seemed exasperated, but his cute, innocent expression was racing through my mind, relentlessly etching itself into my brain.

He frowned. "Tryin' to make toast. But your stupid toaster won't listen," He whined, setting the bag of bread down.

"That's a junk mail shredder," I said calmly, though inside I was angry that my shredder had bread inside of it now.

"WHY THE FUCK DO YOU HAVE A SHREDDER IN YOUR KITCHEN?" He shouted, amusingly confused.

"Because I put my MAIL in the kitchen. Duh." I rolled my eyes and went back to the living room. I hopped on the couch and sank into it, sighing contentedly.

Naruto soon came over, and began apologizing about the shredder. He seemed upset until I reassured him that it was okay. "I can buy at least twenty more. They're cheap."

He sat down on the couch, relieved and happy. I rested my head in his lap and stared up into his eyes, some kind of smile on my face. "How long until Kiba lets you come home?"

"Could be a few hours. More than likely tomorrow. If I _really_ pissed him off, I'd say about two to three days." He sighed and rolled his head back.

"You're whipped," I muttered, shifting into a fetal position. It went wrong, and I was now facing his lower stomach/upper crotch area. I had turned the wrong way, but he didn't seem to mind. Neither did I. He was warm, and I was cold. So it worked out very well. I contemplated lifting up his shirt slightly and licking him, but I decided not to, because he was warm and comfy and I didn't want him to jump up and leave. So I turned my head a bit, so I could breathe cool air, and snuggled up against him.

There was no doubt about it. Naruto was now my favorite client.


	7. Chapter Six: Arguments

Whoa. My latest chapter got a shitload of reviews. I'm so fucking touched. I'm so glad you all enjoyed it. FIVE C2s. OHMYGOD.

I have some things to clarify for you, dearies. So **LISTEN (Er.. Read?) UP!**

**Naruto will probably end up dominant. But It won't be all that important, and it won't be mentioned much in smutless situations. Oh, and I might start an AFF account for the NaruSasu smut.** YAY SMUT!

Random Sidenote: I love writing in first-person POVs, but smut, fight scenes, et cetera, will be third person. Just cause it's easier. Less intense things will be in first person, of course.

If you've never seen RENT, just kinda pretend like you know what it is, 'kay?

This is gonna consist mainly of dialogue. Because I like dialogue.

Oh, and one last thing: People will **die** later on. At least three. I know, I'm a horrible little bitch. But I assure you, our favorite therapist and our beloved gambler will not die.

Here, we dip into Sasuke's past. And here, some drama begins! Oh my! Still, 'tis dominated by humor. I promise some drama towards the end of this chapter. Don't hate me for it.

* * *

Do You fucking THINK I own anything? I only own the word 'crapgasmic.' Maybe not.

Anyone who can find my reference to Chapter One gets a cookie.

* * *

_**Bold Italics are phone calls**_

_Plain italics are titles, sounds, and emphasized words_

'_Italics in apostrophes are thoughts'_

* * *

**Break The Habit-**

**Chapter Six-**

**Arguments**

* * *

We spent the next hour or so talking, and somehow, we wound up on his couch watching _RENT_. We had both seen the musical, and we were comparing it to the movie. We also had made a game out of making random statements about the movie. Needless to say, It caused some arguments.

"I'm telling you, they'd make a cute couple," I said, sticking to my opinion.

"Yeah, but they're both straight!" Sasuke argued, pointing out that Roger was making out with Mimi onscreen.

"But still! They both seem pretty open-minded, and it said in the commentary that Mimi was probably gonna die soon, anyway!"

"But Mark's still not over Maureen!" He cried, waving his arms around like a beheaded chicken.

"Maureen's a fucking lesbian!" I hissed. "She's in love with Joanne!"

"But one can assume that Roger's gonna die, anyway!" Sasuke smirked at me.

"Who's to say that Maureen doesn't invent some kind of eccentric super-cure for HIV/AIDS?" I countered, crossing my arms.

"Maureen would be the one to do that." He laughed, then leaned back into the couch.

"And if Mark and Roger get together after Mimi dies, Nobody straight will be left."

"WAIT A SECOND! Collins isn't gay just because he's in love with a crossdresser!"

"Yes he is! It's being in love with a man, right?" I growled.

"But Angel is a 'she.'" He used air quotes for the word 'she'

"Not really..."

"Just shut the fuck up and watch the goddamn movie."

I happily complied. Just that little taste of things to come had exhausted me. God, the guy could argue with a brick wall. Not that I'm one to talk.

About thirty minutes later, I grew kind of bored. I decided it was bother Sasuke time.

"Hey, Sasuke?" I whispered.

"Hn?" He grunted.

"Uh... never mind." I grinned and leaned back in my seat.

He scooted a little closer, shifting his weight around and trying to get comfortable. I yawned and stretched my arms out, casually draping one over his shoulders.

"What the FUCK, Naruto?" Sasuke violently shook me off. I scooted away a few inches. A few minutes later, I was bored again.

"Hey, Sasuke?"

"What?" He asked, exasperation evident in his voice.

"Uh... I forgot." I grinned as he turned to face the television again. "Hey Sasuke?"

"WHAT?"

"Um... Still can't remember."

"Then shut the fuck up and focus on something else!" I laughed, then decided to watch the rest of the movie in silence, hoping to appease him.

When the movie was over, I was in tears. Sasuke remained stoical. "You can't possibly tell me that it didn't touch you on a deep emotional level!" I exclaimed.

"When you're a therapist, you can't let emotion get to you that easily," He said simply, shrugging his shoulders gently.

"That sucks. Did it take years of rigorous training?"

"Not... exactly." I could see some sort of hurt expression barely cross his face.

"What did it take, then?" I pushed, hoping not to overstep some sort of boundary.

"Uh... some pretty heavy shit that went down in my life. It fucked up my mind, and I was so... emotionally spent that," he bit his lip slightly, "I vowed not to let anything fuck me up that bad again."

"Jesus!" I exclaimed. "Do you mind... elaborating?"

"Well..." he furrowed his brow, "some shit happened when I was a lot younger. Uh... I was..." He winced. "Never mind. I can't. Not today." I almost gasped. He needed a therapist, too, I supposed. Poor guy. Whatever happened must'a screwed him up _bad._

"I'm sorry," I offered.

"It's fine," He said curtly. I doubted that it actually was, but I dropped it.

"Soo... seen any good movies lately?" I ask after about five minutes of strained, awkward silence.

"Besides the one I just watched? No. They all suck ass. I'm sick of stupid, romanticized, watered-down plot-lines and false visions of reality with stunning cinematography. I mean, fuck! I want to know about real life, not some sappy, crapgasmic love story about two fuckin' saps who fall in love! God, it's like..." I tuned him out, pretending to listen to his angry rant. I guessed that it was how he suppressed other emotions. Anger. I needed to fix that. I also needed to fix the leaky faucet in the bathroom. Kiba said he'd pay me. My thoughts drifted to money. Those thoughts drifted to betting. Those thoughts, of course, drifted to gambling. I felt my mouth go dry. "... gay or interracial couples and stuff. Talk about bias–"

"S-Sasuke?" I cut him off, biting my lip.

"What?" He asked, dropping his previous subject.

"Cards, horse races, dice, luck, poker, betting, cash--"

"FUCK!" He grabs my arm tightly and jerks me about-face. "Think about something else. Anything else. Just not anything related to that." I started thinking about Sasuke. His soft skin and dark features... oh, God... "Think about Kiba! Think of how disappointed he'd be if–" I pressed my lips fiercely against his, wrapping my arms around his waist as I did. His arms tentatively went around my neck, and he slowly responded. I didn't want slow, though. It sped up in due time. A moan escaped him as I slowly inched my hands downwards, groping at his ass as we kissed.

When we parted for air, he leaned against me, face buried in the crook of my neck. "I'm sorry," I whispered, opening my eyes slightly.

"At least you were able to get your mind off of it," He said quietly, moving his head so he could look at me.

"Yeah... but what if you're not there next time?" Fear was evident in my tone.

"Jack off," Sasuke said bluntly.

"WHAT?"

"It always distracts me when I'm stressed out."

"...Too much information, Sasuke."

"If you think_ that_'s scary, try being a therapist in a city full of wackjobs and criminals."

"...I have no witty retaliation." I tried not to laugh. I didn't realize my hands were still on his ass. His firm, tight, a– _'WHOA. What the fuck?'_ I squeezed my eyes shut and willed my rushing blood to slow. Crisis averted. My hands stayed there, though.

"You're squeezing, Naruto." I blushed and slid my hands up his back, away from my favorite spot and onto the small of his back.

"Er..."

He chuckled slightly and pulled out of the embrace. I watched helplessly as he sauntered to the couch, swinging his ass around just to taunt me. He honestly looked like a male prostitute. The bastard. I joined him on the couch, and tried to think of things that would stop the stirring in my groin. Was I really that easily aroused? Or was Sasuke just that sexy?

"Um... I need to see violence, gore, or one hell of a comedy. Got anything?" He nodded and scampered towards a small rack of sorts.

"_Death To Smoochy_ sound okay?"

"Yeah." Why the fuck did he even have that movie? He seemed like the horror movie type. NOT the kids' show-gone-horribly-wrong type. I suppressed laughter and curled my legs up under my body.

Not ten minutes into the movie, I felt a desire to either annoy or ravish Sasuke. I chose the latter. _'Play it cool, Uzumaki. Slowly... slowly... ah-hah! He's not moving away.'_ I slowly pressed my lips to Sasuke's neck, my arms snaking around his midsection. Within five minutes, Smoochy had been forgotten and Sasuke had his hands up my shirt.

_Knock, knock._

"Why me?" He pulled back fully, breaking the bridge of saliva we had formed.

"Sasuke, hon? You there?" What? I had thought he was gay! He told me he was gay! That was a woman's voice! "Sasuke! I know you're there! I hear a movie playing! Sasuke!"

He grudgingly got up off of my lap and made his way to the door. "What the FUCK do you want?"

"Oh, Sasuke, come off it." The voice was sickeningly sweet, yet strangely familiar. I decided to go investigate.

"SAKURA?" I gasped, mouth hanging open.

"NARUTO?" She covered her mouth with her hands.

"Sasuke, would you mind explaining why she's here?"

"Um..."

"Sasuke, would you mind explaining why he's here?"

"Shut up, pinky!"

"Up yours, pineapple-head!"

"How the _fuck_ do you guys know each other?"

"She's my sister!" Sakura said something similar, at the same time.

"He's my brother!" Were her exact words.

"What the FUCK? You never told me you had a–"

"Yes I did! I told you about my adoptive family!"

"You didn't tell me she was SAKURA!"

"SHUT UP, BOYS!" She hissed, thwacking both of us with her purse. "First, let's go inside. You both have some explaining to do."

"Yes, ma'am." I shuffled back to the couch.

"Okay, first Sasuke. Start talking."

"Naruto's a client of mine. His master-- I mean... roommate... kicked him out temporarily, and he called me." I glared at him. Kiba is NOT my master! Okay, there was that _one_ time when we were SUPER drunk and he almost raped me. But that's another story.

"And Naruto?"

"What he said, bitch!"

"Oh, yeah." She blushed, then threw her arms around me. "I missed you! I haven't seen you since–"

"Your turn to explain, Sakura," Sasuke mumbled. Was that... jealousy in his voice?

"Not until somebody tells my WHY Naruto is in therapy." Shit.

"Um... depression." Sasuke's a good liar.

"Oh. Poor baby!" She tackled me again and gave me a huge kiss on the cheek.

"Okay, NOW explain why you're here. Naruto doesn't know."

"Well, Sasuke's a friend–"

"ACQUAINTANCE."

"Of mine. And you know how much I've always wanted to be a therapist, right?"

"Oh, my god! Yes! You used to practice on me!" She giggled, then nodded.

"I work as a receptionist at his office sometimes. He gives me tips on being a therapist, too. I'm going to Grad School soon for a degree in social work. And I always stop by his apartment every week to chat or bring him a cookie!"

"A cookie?" I asked disbelievingly. Sasuke liked cookies? I had thought he hated sweets.

"Yes. A cookie. May I have said cookie now?"

"No cookie this week, Sasuke. Sorry, hon. Oh, and take care of that nasty bruise on your neck. Jeeze, were you mugged or something?" I snickered quietly. "Well, g'bye, boys!" With that, she trotted out the door, clueless as ever.

"Aw... she likes you!"

"Nuh-uh! How do you know?"

"I've known that girl for years, Sasuke. I know when she likes a boy."

"Ewwww. Girls are gross."

"You sound like an eight-year old." Whoa. Déjà vu.

"I can't help it if I share the opinions of the younger population."

"I can't believe she thought that was a bruise." I changed the subject, but not the overall topic.

"Well if you hadn't treated my neck like a fucking lollipop or something..."

I blushed. "But you taste good." And that was all I could say before my mouth was claimed by Sasuke.

"You taste like old cookies and pepto bismol." I laughed. He moved down to lick my neck. "Salty. But good. Kinda like tofu."

"Why are you comparing me to soybean products?"

"'Cause I like you and I like soybean products." Another kiss. We collapsed on the couch, Sasuke on top of me, and had another spit-swapping party. He let out a whimper as we parted. Satisfied, I admired my work. Swollen, bruised lips and a flushed face. Utterly fuckable. But not yet.

Soon enough, he had his head in my lap as we watched the end of _Death To Smoochy_. I was laughing softly, and I think he had fallen asleep. My mind wandered into dirty things that had to do with his head and my lap, but not in the way we were now. I felt blood rush down south and couldn't help it. Before I knew it, I was giving him ear sex. Talk about embarrassing.

"N... Naruto? What the FUCK is in my ear?"

"Um..." I proceeded to get yelled at. Eventually, I scooted down the couch, my lap as far away from Sasuke as I could manage. "Sorry."

"You get horny easily."

"My record time is twenty seconds."

"You're disgusting."

"Thanks." I jolted as I heard the familiar sound of my cell phone ringing. "Y'ello?"

"_**N-Naruto, It's Kiba."**_

"Hey. 'Sup?" His voice was shaky. I felt concern bubbling up inside my chest..

"**_Naruto, you need to get home RIGHT NOW."_** I paled. He sounded terrified.

"What is it? What's wrong?"

"**_I found these pills...in his jacket... and..."_** Oh, God. Was Gaara a junkie?

"...And?" I prompted.

"**_One bottle said 'AZT.'"_** My heart skipped a beat.

"Oh, my God. Was it prescribed for him?"

"**_Yes!"_** I could hear his choked sobs. I was fairly certain I was on my way to my own.

"Oh, fuck. Oh, fuck, fuck, fuck. Did– when– protected?" I glanced at Sasuke, who was looking at me confusedly.

"_**No! The bastard... he... oh, God. I need you here, Naruto. Please come home. Now."**_

"Sure thing, Kiba. Just hold on tight. Is he out of there?"

"_**Yeah. Please come home. I need you here! Please!"**_

"I'll be there ASAP."

"_**Please, Naruto! I'm so sorry for kicking you out!"**_

"It's fine. We're gonna get through this, okay? We'll go to the clinic in about three months."

"_**Wh-why? Why do I gotta wait so long?"**_

"It takes a little while for it to... I'll explain soon, okay? We can get a rapid test, so we don;t have to wait much longer after that. Lemme just get there and I'll talk to you. It'll be alright, Kiba. Just hold on."

"**_So says the perfectly healthy one. It will NOT be alright, Naruto! Just get your ass over here!"_** _Click. Dial tone._ His words stung, but not as much as the tears pricking at my eyes.

"Naruto, what...?"

"No time. Gotta go. I'll call." I kissed him briefly, tears streaming down my cheeks.

"Bye..."

"Bye, Sasuke. See you Wednesday."

I got the feeling I hurt his feelings. But at that moment, my primary concern was my best friend and the possibility of a rapidly impending mortality.

* * *

Oh, I'm such a horrible person. Don't hate me... please. 


	8. Chapter Seven: Bright Side

Lotsa feedback! Love you guys! I have some answers:

**AZT** is a medication used by people with HIV/AIDS.

**SMUT** will happen soon, I promise. Probably some borderline stuff next chapter. This chapter gets kinda intense, though.

I had to do some research for this. Forgive me if anything is incorrect.  
And also don't hate me for the hell I'm gonna put everyone through.AND don't hate me for making Kiba hate kids and having him try to hurt them.

And this MAY seem like a KibaNaru, but it's NOT. Okay? Platonic relationship. Brotherly love.

* * *

I don't own anything. Just some merchandise.

* * *

**Break The Habit-**

**Chapter Seven-**

**Bright Side**

* * *

Three months passed rather quickly. Every night was a crying session, and I was always terrified to leave Kiba home alone. After the first few times, when I walked in on him trying to kill himself or something, I decided to start taking him to therapy sessions. He sat under the watchful eye of Ino (The blonde assistant) or Sakura. 

What I meant by 'or something' was drugs. I found him shoveling down sleeping pills and antidepressants. His suicide attempts were horrifying. Preparing to down pills with alcohol, attempts at OD'ing, and things like that. It took a lot of talking to convince him that life was still worth living, and that there was a chance he didn't even have HIV. So Kiba became co-dependant. He would break down, and it would tear me apart. Where was my Kiba? My fun-loving almost-brother? He was gone. And I wasn't sure he would ever come back. His facial tattoos were always a shade darker and were always glistening with dried tears. He had lost all passion for cooking. It was take-out, order-ins, sandwiches, and cereal for a long time. He had even stop paying attention to Akamaru, which was an enormous change.

I tried the brutally honest, 'get your act together, you stupid cunt!' approach. It failed. Sasuke became _my_ lifeline. I was constantly begging him for help. He kept saying things like 'optimism is key' and shit like that. I wanted to tell him that I had been trying that, but nothing would work. I was almost at wits' end, and wanted to just claw out my eyes and hide under my blankets until apocalypse come. That didn't happen, though. Sasuke held me together. But sometimes his efforts just weren't enough.

Coke. The first time I tried it was in high school, behind the trash cans, with some people I vaguely knew. I loved it, but never let myself get addicted. That was the first and last time I tried it. Until my life got ten times harder. I only used it once or twice, the calming high clearing my thoughts, if only temporarily. I felt ashamed afterwards, but it sure as fuck helped. I never got addicted. It was tempting, but I didn't get addicted. Made my nose burn, though.

Sasuke... Sasuke was so helpful. Thing were kind of touchy after the incident at his apartment, but it got better. He was really helpful with Kiba, and never complained when my sanity threatened to go. He became number one on speed dial. He even offered to come to the clinic. Kiba didn't want him there.

I had asked Sasuke out a few times. By 'out,' I mean asking him to come to the apartment for coffee and a Kiba-monitoring session. I asked him to start dating me, and he said yes. Things had started to look up. Until Kiba started getting weak. He had a seemingly constant upset stomach. He was always tired and his joints always ached. I convinced myself that it was just a little bout of influenza, and that his prolonged fever would go down. He developed bacterial pneumonia, always coughing and panting and wheezing. I cried at night, when he had gone to sleep. during his sleep, he would sweat and toss and turn.

When three months was finally up, we went to the clinic. Kiba's hand was practically glued over his mouth and nose, either protecting him or muffling his coughs. He chose to take the OraQuick test. I wanted to have a mental breakdown right there.

They took him aside, and got some samples. I wanted to be there, to hold his hand, to comfort him, but they didn't let me. When he came back, we embraced, crying together. I gave him reassuring kisses on the forehead and pats on the back. All of it platonic, mind you. I'm a one-man guy.

Those next twenty minutes were the most terrifying of my life. We sat in the clinic, both shaking and crying. Kiba more than me, for obvious reasons.

"Keebs, it'll be okay, no matter what. With all this new medication, the life expectancy for an HIV-positive person is a lot longer than it was a long time ago, and–"

"Just sh-shut the f-f-fuck up. P-please." I obeyed. He squeezed my hand tightly, and dug his fingertips into my skin. Little bruises formed, but he didn't use his nails. I thought my hand was going to explode when the nurse walked in, holding some slips of paper. I offered to go get it, and Kiba allowed it, as did the staff.

She handed me the slips of paper, an unreadable look on her face. I didn't dare look at the papers. When she forked over the bag and another slip of paper, I winced. She produced something out of her pocket. The results. The tiny display window on the small, stick-like thing showed two lines. One adjacent to the C and one adjacent to the T. She explained, and my heart caught in my throat. My stomach burned, and tears sprang to my eyes. HIV-1 Positive. I could feel my stomach churning. I could feel the bile rise through my body. She asked if I needed to be tested, too. I said no. I'd been very careful those past few months.

I thanked her for ruining a life, but not in those words, and walked back over to Kiba, whose face displayed mixed emotions. I glanced at the papers. Pamphlets. As if text on paper would help. I offered my hand, tucking the papers away into my jacket. I tried to give a smile. It failed. We walked out of the clinic and towards the subway station.

"What... did it say?" He asked shakily. I said nothing. His brow furrowed and tears poured in rivers down his already-tear-stained cheeks. "Positive? Did it say positive, Naruto?"

I nodded subtly. He fell to his knees and buried his face in his hands. People stared. I glared at them and flipped them off. Glares are not as effective when you're crying like a baby. "C'mon, Kiba. We gotta get home."

"NO!" He wriggled out of my grasp, still sobbing on the sidewalk. I sighed a shuddery sigh and pulled out my cell phone and flipped it open. I held down the number one and pressed it to my ear. "S-S-Sasuke? I need you here."

"_**Oh, God. Fuck. Shit. Fuck. He tested positive?"**_

"Yes."

"_**Fuck. Where are you?"**_

"At the subway entrance nearest to the clinic."

"_**I'll be there as soon as I can. Oh, fuck. Is he okay?"**_

"Fuck, no he's not okay!" I hissed, glancing down at the doubled-over figure of my best friend.

"_**Sorry. Stupid question. I can be there in, like, ten minutes. My office is pretty close.."**_

"I know."

"_**I'll bring some books of mine. I think they'd help."**_

"He needs all the help he can fucking get. Okay?"

"**_I fucking understand, Naruto!_**"

"Okay. Bye."

"**_See ya."_** _Dial Tone._ I put away my phone and wrapped my arms around Kiba's huddled form.

"It's gonna be alright, Kiba. You'll be okay."

"Will I, Naruto? You promise?" I tried to find a sense of underlying sarcasm and bitterness, but couldn't.

"I promise. There are so many treatments, and you can live for so long with it. HIV nowadays is just a minor hindrance in so many lives, Keebs. You'll be fine." I smiled tearily at him. His bloodshot eyes brightened somewhat. "Sasuke's bringing you some books. He says they might help."

"O-okay." I helped him to his feet. We embraced, then waited silently for Sasuke to arrive. My mind was buzzing. I had to get a better job so we could afford meds and doctor's visits. Fuck, we needed to find a doctor! I would probably have to stop therapy. But Sasuke would be nice enough to conduct free sessions, right? I wanted to rip out my hair. Things were so confusing.

"Hey." I almost screeched in relief. "How is he?" Sasuke's eyes darted back and forth between Kiba's hunched-over form and me.

"As good as can be expected. I got him to calm down some."

"Good. Lemme see him." I took a tentative step away from Kiba. "Hey."

"Hi." Kiba had actually gotten to know Sasuke better. He was almost a pseudo-friend.

"You gonna be okay?"

"Mm-hm." I grinned. He was going to be okay.

"D'you need something? I got money for stuff." Whoa. Sasuke was motherly?

"Does the mafia owe you a favor?" I almost laughed.

"No. But I can get Starbucks or ice cream or some shit like that."

"Who the hell eats ice cream in February?" He was regaining personality at an alarming rate.

"Sad people. Now shut the fuck up and let's go get some... er... what did you want again?"

"Um... ice cream. But only if we can eat it inside." Sasuke and I exchanged glances.

"Sure. Let's go," I said quietly, embracing Kiba for what seemed to be the thousandth time that day.

When we got to the shop, it was practically deserted. Not like we expected anything different. Sasuke bought Kiba the most expensive thing there, and Kiba devoured it in about five minutes. That was a good sign. I was drinking a chocolate malt, while Sasuke had vanilla ice cream. He ate it provocatively, swirling his tongue around it and making all these sounds that made me want to jump up and bend him over the table right there. But I suppressed my hormones and averted my gaze. It was NOT a day for naughty thoughts.

We exited quietly, parting ways near Sasuke's office building. I put on my best 'happy façade' and kept saying reassuring things to Kiba. He was fighting back a sugar high. Anything he said was muffled by the three scarves around his neck and face. I was overprotective. I would not let the outside world harm my best friend, even if it meant a cold neck and freezing hands. He looked really funny with my bright orange mittens on over his dark green gloves. He looked even funnier with a black scarf (courtesy of Sasuke), an orange scarf, and a grey scarf all wound up around him. The top scarf, Sasuke's, was somewhat wet from tears. I reached over and folded it down, keeping the dampness away from him.

Kiba clung to the subway seat for dear life as the jerky train started off. He's always hated subway trains when they first take off. His first time on one was in eighth grade, with me and Kakashi. It was for my fourteenth birthday. Kiba almost pissed himself, and I called him a train-virgin.

"Hey, train-virgin. Feelin' okay?"

He allowed himself an almost-laugh. "Stable. Better than before."

"A-fuckin'-mazing." I grinned like a madman.

"Your boyfriend helped a lot." I blushed.

"I'm gonna tell him you said that."

"Oh, God. He's gonna become more overbearing than you. Oh, fuck. Is he an affection leech?"

"No. He only likes being in close contact when I've got him half-naked and writihing and moa–"

"Ew. Shut up, please." I wasn't sure if he was joking or being bitter about it.

"Okay."

"Dude. Naruto. Stop obeying me. God, you're such a pussy." He half-smiled at me, and I enveloped him in an enormous hug.

"You're coming back to me!" He was silent, but looked at me in a sort of affirmative way– if that's even possible.

The rest of the ride was uneventful, if not awkward. We got off at our stop, and I, being totally immature, raced over to a nearby vending machine.

"You just had a sugar-packed malt. Can it wait?"

"No! I need M&Ms_ now_." I smiled at him. He rolled his eyes and waited patiently as I stuffed the crinkled dollar bill into the little money-taker slot thingamajig. It wouldn't take the damn thing, so I shoved it in, kicked it, and unintentionally got three extra bags. "Oh. I dunno whether to say 'fuck' or 'thank you.'" I glared at the four packets of candy.

Kiba made a strangled sort of noise in the back of his throat, almost like a held-back laugh. I smirked deviously and whirled around, clasping the M&Ms in my hand. I saw him clasp a gloved hand to his mouth. His eyes were laughing and smiling, though. That was good enough.

"Hey, Keebs? Wanna go to the park?"

"No. Tourists, pigeons, and little brats all over the place. Not my scene."

"Aw. Why not? We can throw stuff at people and chase the pigeons!"

"...Do you have any rubber bands?"

"Always." I almost always had office supplies stashed in my pockets. I stole it from Sasuke's office.

"'Kay. Let's go."

"Slingshots, Kiba?" I inquired, raising an eyebrow.

"Mm-hm." I smiled at him and we walked towards the park. When we got there, Kiba mused quietly to himself as I tried to gather stones and Y-shaped sticks. After fashioning two sturdy slingshots, I motioned him over to the bench I was sitting behind.

"Ready?"

"Fuck, yeah." He grabbed some stones from the pile I had made and placed one into his slingshot. I laughed as he aimed it at the nearest child. He missed, but seemed to enjoy it. After we ran out of stones (three tourists hit, one little kid, and one workaholic yuppie) and snapped the rubber bands, we decided to chase pigeons.

After running around like madmen for a few minutes, an unexpected thing happened: Kiba _grinned_. I was ecstatic. I tackled him and hugged him, tears streaming down my face. Of course, I called myself a girl for crying so easily.

During our childishness, I spotted somebody watching us. _'Fuck,'_ I thought. It was the drug dealer I had consulted.

"Um... let's go. I'm getting cold, and it's getting dark." I turned my head slightly and walked towards the park exit.

"Hey," Kiba rasped, "it's beginning to snow." I burst out into song, screeching '_Christmas Bells_' from the musical RENT at the top of my lungs. He slapped me.

"Shut _uuup_." I laughed at how he stretched the vowel.

"Make me!"

"With pleasure!" But it was an empty threat. We got home a few minutes later, me slightly colder than Kiba. "You gonna give girly-boy his scarf back?" He unwound the three long strips of fabric, sighing tiredly.

"Yes. But after I wash it."

"Dude! That's gonna shrink it!" He was back!

"I'll get it dry-cleaned, then."

He scoffed. "Like you can afford it."

"Fine! I'll whore myself out for dry-cleaning money!"

"You'd look amazing in drag." He flashed that grin again.

"Yuck fou."

"Bou're a yitch."

"I love you."

"I love you, too. But only like a brother. 'Cause you're cute and all... but you're not exactly what I'm looking for." This was an often-had conversation.

"Gosh. You sound like you're looking for vacuum cleaners or somethin'."

"Shut up. I'm going to make us some food. We still have that spaghetti, right?"

Oh. My. God. He was going to cook? "'Course. You know I can't boil water without spazzing and injuring myself."

"Oh, fuck. That's right. Remember that one time--"

"No." We got quiet after that, probably both letting the events of the hours gone by sink in. What a day. What a rebound from Kiba.

Dinner was fantastic. Better than it had been even before all that stupid shit went down. Akamaru received love and affection and attention and apologies. I got a bear hug and lots of whispered 'thank you's and 'sorry's.

I fell asleep clutching Sasuke's scarf to my face and inhaling his scent. Even after hours of abuse, the scarf still smelled like him. Needless to say, I woke up with an erection and my hand down my pants. After a relieving shower and a change of clothes, I shuffled into the kitchen. Kiba was drumming his fingers on the table and sipping coffee.

"You're a screamer."

"WHAT?"

"You heard me. You're a screamer during sex."

"But I..."

"It's a foresight. Or should I say fore_skin_?"

"I'd love to talk about dicks and all that shit, but I have a Sasuke to romance."

"Be sure to tell him that he needs earplugs next time you guys fuck!"

"You mean the first time?"

"You're _still _a virgin? Jeeeesus." I was glad that he had moved on from his terrible ordeal three months prior.

"Shut up. I hate you."

"Practice safe sex, kids! You don't wanna wind up like ol' Kiba here!" So _that_ was how he was coping. A humorous approach. I was silent, glaring at him until he apologized.

"I'm going now."

"Have fun!"

I walked out the door and down the stairwell. The sidewalk was crowded, as usual. I shuffled my way through the hustle and bustle, trying desperately to avoid bumping into anyone. Especially anyone who looked like they had a cold. I couldn't bring germs back to the apartment.

I finally arrived at a small coffeehouse, where Sasuke was waiting at a back table. I waved to him. Then I realized that I had left his scarf. I explained, and he allowed me to go get it.

I got back home, ignoring Kiba's snide comments, and was horrified to find that the scarf had dried cum on it. I frantically tried to scrape some of it off. When I was partially satisfied, I stuffed it into my coat pocket and hurried out again.

When I got back on the street, I realized that I needed an excuse for why his scarf still had stains and why I took so long. I tried desperately to think of one, but failed. I decided to tell the truth. He'd probably find it funny. And he'd probably blush about the wet dream part. Ooh, that blush... I almost started drooling.

As I moved to open the door, a somewhat familiar face was at a front table. My eyes narrowed, my expression grew cold, and I growled deeply, the rumbling scratching up my throat. My lips formed only one word: "_Gaara._"

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Aaand... cliffhanger. 


	9. Chapter Eight: Pedaling Backwards

Thanks for the positive reviews and support! Love you guys!

I got flamed. Which was not the highlight of my year. If you're gonna hate on it, take it up with me personally via email or PM. Sure, flames don't offend me, but I'd rather not see them. Constructive criticism is encouraged, but flat-out flaming is NOT.

I did lots of research for this chapter. It was fun.

Once again, I do not own anything with a recognizable name.

* * *

**Break The Habit**

**Chapter Eight**

**Pedaling Backwards**

* * *

I glared angrily at the surprised face before me. I doubt I've ever been angrier.

"Do I know you?" He asked calmly, a nonexistent eyebrow quirked.

"Yes." I saw Sasuke's eyes go wide. He hurried over, a confused look on his face.

"Naruto, how do you know Gaara?"

"You mean I didn't tell you? He gave Kiba HIV! How do you--"

"I did not." I stared at the redhead. "He already had it!"

"He did NOT. You lying bastard!" Sasuke backed away, not wanting to interfere.

"Yes he did. Why did I see him take pills? Why did he not say anything when he saw me take pills?"

"He was taking his allergy pills or something! And he's not that bright, so he could've easily mistaken... Why didn't you tell him?"

"Slipped my mind." His eyes were intense, though his face remained impassive.

"A fucking _death sentence _slipped your mind?" I dug my nails into my palms.

"I didn't– Look, we're disturbing the customers. Let's take this outside." I sped out of the place, watching his every move.

"You killed him. You fucking killed him. He was almost completely gone over the past few months and you don't give a shit!"

"He could've asked."

"That is NOT the point!" I groaned in frustration.

"It was his responsibility to inquire about the pills."

"No, it was not. It was YOUR responsibility to tell him that he was gonna get HIV. And right now, there is nothing I hate more in this world than YOU." With that, any ounce of control I had slipped and I felt my fist connect with his cheek at an alarming rate.

"_Fuck!_" He hissed as he placed a hand over his face. "You little shit!" And so it began. We threw punch after punch, eventually winding up in the alley next to the shop. I tackled him to the ground and had at it, trying to collapse his face into his brain cavity. I let my guard down for a split second after hearing a gasp nearby, and was flipped onto my back.

I yelped in pain as I felt something sharp dragged across my face. The action was repeated twice, and then again on the other side. I struggled beneath him as he placed something down, successfully managing to throw him off of me. I raised a cold hand to my face. When I brought it down, my hand was coated in blood. _Fuck._ I rose to my feet and delivered several kicks to Gaara's crumpled form. My tears stung the wounds, mingling with the pouring blood. I faintly heard a familiar voice shout my name, then spun around.

"Naruto, what the hell? What did he... fuck! What did you DO?" Sasuke looked angrily at me, obviously ignoring the blood rushing down my face.

"I needed to settle a score!" I glared at Gaara as he groaned in pain. Something shiny fell out of his hand. I grabbed it. It was the top of a tin can, the jagged edge dripping with blood. My blood, I hoped.

"You could've... fuck it. Just... God, Naruto, why didn't you say something about it? Why didn't you tell me his name when we talked about it?"

"I didn't think you cared!"

"He's a client of mine!"

"I didn't know!" I almost pitched forward, my head feeling light and my feet feeling heavy.

"You could've solved this nonviolently! Dammit! You told me that you didn't want to be a violent person anymore!"

"You would've reacted the same way!"

"Says who?" I flinched. "Just shut up! And, dammit, stop bleeding!"

I groaned in remembrance, the pain on my cheeks intensifying. I pulled my scarf off and pressed it to my face, the pressure slowing the bleeding. "I gotta..." I never finished. I simply crashed to my knees, sobbing and clutching my blood-stained scarf. I became vaguely aware of the pain shooting through most of my body. Then everything went black.

I came to much later, my eyelids feeling heavy as I opened my eyes. Well, eye. The other was covered with some soft substance and I couldn't open it. I tried to speak, but couldn't. Pain shot through my entire body. Everything around me was white and silver. Definitely not the alley.

"He lives!" I heard a feminine voice shout next to me. I looked over and saw Sakura, smiling and waving at me. "You lost a lot of blood. Sasuke was, like, frantic."

I tried to speak again. My throat was burning. "Wh... hap'n'd?"

"You were in a fight! Shut up, okay? You got punched in the throat, apparently." I did? I guess I wasn't paying attention. "Your cheeks were in shreds. Seriously. It's better if you don't open your mouth a lot." My one in-use eye widened. "There's stitches. You're gonna have wicked scarring."

"Eye?" I wheezed. I hoped she understood I meant my eye and not myself.

"Swollen shut," She answered cheerily. "Your ankle is twisted, your wrist is fractured, your shoulder's dislocated, and your kneecaps are bruised. Like, the bone. Not just the skin. And you had, like, a split lip. You're bruised basically everywhere, too."

"F'ck..." I moaned, closing my eye. "S'ske?"

"At work, hon."

"Ngh... Kiba?"

"Kiba's at the doctor's office." My eye snapped open again.

"Why?"

"He didn't say. He sounded fine, though."

"Good." I tried to relax.

"Need anything? I can go get the nurse and tell her you're awake."

"No." I tried to smile. She smiled back and got up.

"I need food. Even if it's crummy hospital food. Be back in a few."

I laid there, contemplating everything that had happened. Kiba was gonna want to know why I was in a fight. I tried to think of a good excuse. And the last time I had spoken with Sasuke, it wasn't on very good terms. But Sakura had said that he was worried. I sighed and let my thoughts drift away. Sleep was gonna do me some good.

I was released two days later. I had to keep bandages on my face, use a crutch, wear a stupid splint on my wrist, and not speak much. I had only been visited by Kiba, Sakura, and Kakashi. I was getting worried. And I had missed a therapy session.

I laid uselessly on the couch while Kiba went to the doctor's office again. He was going to finish picking out medications with his doctor and get the prescription started. Apparently, he had found a doctor the morning I was hospitalized.

I glanced over at the coffee table, and glared angrily at a small, patterned box that sat idly on it. I had thought that Kiba had gotten rid of those. Maybe he had played solitaire. I had always hated solitaire. There were never any stakes or anything. As I recalled this, urges filled my mind. Fuck. Before I knew what I was doing, I had grabbed the cards and was running my fingertips over the smooth surfaces. Familiarity and longing struck me. I got up, grabbed my crutch, and hobbled towards the phone, operating totally on autopilot. I punched in seven numbers, and my eyes widened as I hear a familiar, deep voice fill my ear. I slammed the phone back down into the cradle, causing pain to jolt through my bruised joints. The injured arm, which was hanging lightly at my side, twitched slightly as the fast motion occurred. I groaned and rested my forehead on the counter.

"Fuck. How could I? How?" I grasped at my hair with my one uninjured hand. "It's not fair! Sasuke said I was doing good! Dammit! I was almost over it! Almost! And I went and fucking... God!" I whispered all this, but wanted to scream. I didn't want my facial wounds opening up again. I growled angrily and reached for the phone again. I pressed an all-to-familiar combination of numbers and waited as the phone rang.

"**_What is it, Naruto?"_** I hated caller ID.

"Code Red." I moaned hoarsely. Sasuke and I had come up with a codes system during Kiba's bad months. Red meant I was in dire need of psychiatric help.

"_**FUCK! Fuckfuckfuck. Stay wherever the fuck it is you are. Um... where?"**_

"Home."

"_**Okay. I'll be there. Just hang on. How bad?"**_

"Not horrible. Tempted. Tempted bad." I felt so much like a weak little child.

"_**Oh, thank fuck. I'll be there, though. Glad you called."**_

"Yeah." _Click._ I hung up the phone and limped back towards the couch. I gently settled myself into the cushions and tried not to look at the discarded cards. I whined loudly and clawed at my hair again.

A good twenty minutes later, Sasuke barged in without any sort of warning. I jerked, causing pain to overcome my senses. "Fuck!"

"Shit! Sorry!" He smoothed out his suit jacket then flopped himself into a recliner. "Start talking. Now." I hated when Sasuke got all serious.

"Saw cards. Touched them. Called someone. Didn't talk, though."

Sasuke looked somewhat relieved. "Restrained yourself to an extent? Good." He pulled a pen and a tiny, spiral-bound notepad out of his trouser pocket. He jotted something down, then glanced back towards me, prompting me to continue.

"Wanted it bad. Didn't think. Felt bad about it." I sighed and started drumming my fingers on my torso. "Sorry."

"It's fine. It'll be okay." I suddenly found myself experiencing what Kiba had earlier. "Stop talking. Okay? Your throat is still fucked up and your face could burst open if you keep moving your jaw."

"No," I hissed, moving my hand from my abdomen to my eyes. I placed it palm-up across the bridge of my nose.

"Drama queen," He muttered, shifting in the chair. "Just rest up. Keep your goddamn foot elevated. Wrist, too." He paused for a second, stuffing the tiny notebook and pen back into his pocket. "You need a heating pad for your back, also."

"Yes, mom." I gently placed my foot on an armrest of the couch. I draped my arm across the back of the couch, shifting until I was comfortable. I watched as Sasuke stood up and went to rummage through the closet. His search was successful, and soon enough I had an electric heating pad burning up my lower back. It was inside my shirt, which was not fun. Even if it had a blanket-like cover.

"Well, I'm gonna wait here until Kiba gets back and keep an eye on you. Lemme go make a phone call." He was so dedicated. I loved that about him. When he came back, he sat cross-legged on the carpet and rested his chin on the couch. "Hi."

"Hi."

"Hey, I gotta ask you something."

"Go 'head."

"Remember those tickets? The ones for Guys and Dolls?"

"Mm-hm."

"The show's next week."

"Fuck. Really?" My eyes widened. One more than the other, because I still had a whopping shiner.

"Yeah."

"You get tickets early."

"I like to plan ahead."

"Yay."

"So... you're inviting Kiba and... let's pawn that fourth ticket. Sell it on the street!"

"Make two times th' 'riginal value." I hated talking so weirdly. Stupid vowels.

"Yes! Now... you need to eat."

"S's who?"

"Me. And your stomach." Sure enough, my stomach gurgled at me.

"No. Hurts."

He looked thoughtful for a moment, then sighed. "How 'bout something warm and easy to down?"

"M'kay."

"Good." He left me to my thoughts. I stared up at the ceiling, admiring the horrible lighting and cracks in the plaster. I began counting the imperfections, which had become one of my more neurotic tendencies. I groaned and lost count, then started to drum out a silent rhythm on my chest. The uneven, dull thumping of my fingertips melded with my heartbeat, slowly lulling me into a daze. I was jolted into consciousness when Sasuke set something down on the end table with a rather loud _clank_. "Soup." He declared.

"Wh' kind?"

"Red." I wanted to laugh, but didn't. "Open your mouth."

"You're n't g'nna feed me."

"I am." He reached over and gently moved the piece of gauze that had been resting above my lip onto my nose. It almost made me sneeze. "Jeesuuussss. You're gonna have a fuckin' goatee by the time you can shave again." I raised my hand and brushed it along my jawline. Whoa.

"I c'n shave. Just n't good."

"Ask Kiba to help."

"Scared to."

"You or him?"

"Him. Blood... y'know. Neurotic."

"Then I suppose I have to help you."

"Food..."

"Right. Eat first, then I'll rid you of annoying facial hair."

"I feel so co-d'pend'nt." I hated feeling that way. So helpless, like a fucking overturned turtle.

"It's only for a little bit. When that fracture in your wrist heals you'll be fine." I glared at him, and he laughed. "Okay, when your wrist, ankle, and face heal." I wanted to sigh, but instead let out a panting wheeze. "You're good to eat on your own, right?"

"Y's. Wh' hapn'd to you feed'n' me?" I wondered vaguely how he understood me when my voice sounded something akin to Mushmouth from the old_ Fat Albert_ cartoons. I supposed it was a bit like that innate ability that dentists have when their patients are trying to talk with their mouths being forced open.

"Change of heart. Plus, I'm not a fucking nurse." My eye twitched as sexual fantasies filled my head.

"No sponge bath?" I mumbled, feigning hurt.

"Not today." He snickered, then stood up. "I gotta make one more call. Be right back. Eat your soup." I heard retreating footsteps and a half-gasp. "Yo."

"Hi, Naruto's girlfriend. I mean boyfriend. I mean... shit." I could picture Kiba clearly, grinning embarrassedly and scratching the back of his neck.

"Nice to see you, too, Kiba." I heard a brief shuffling, followed by the door being pulled to.

"Hey."

"Hi." There was a rustling of plastic and paper as he set what I assumed to be two grocery bags and one small paper bag on the table.

"What'd you get?"

"Um, an AZT, 3TC, and efavirenz combo."

"Um, I meant groc'ries."

"Oh." An awkward silence fell over us, broken by a rather loud curse from Sasuke outside.

"Tell me 'bout your meds."

"Like I said, AZT/3TC/EFV combo. Proven the most effective in HIV treatment and blah, blah, blah. AZT and 3TC twice a day, EFV once a day." He grew quiet. "We're gonna have to give up some luxuries. This shit ain't cheap. Like, Twelve thousand a year." I winced. "That okay? Like, no cable, not as much food..."

"Like hell there won't be food!" I hissed, a burst of strength overcoming me. "You need it."

"I only make twenty-three thousand a year, Naruto! Sacrifices will be made."

"I'll get another job, then! We'll have twice as much, so we can afford rent and utilities and stuff. I'll ditch being a waiter and find something that pays better! " My throat burned, as did the wounds on my face.

Yes, I had a job. Shocking, yes? I worked at odd hours, though. Together, we ordinarily made around thirty-four thousand, which was more than enough to feed us and pay rent, insurance, and utilities. Not to mention, of course, the occasional doctor's bill. He was at an entry-level veterinary assistant job. I had only lived with him half a year, but after being forced to take a job and

"Bartend." Another voice added in. Sasuke had stepped inside. "It pays at least seventeen thousand a year."

And a few hours later, Kiba sat at the table with Sasuke while I listened to them talk numbers. I heard a cry of delight and frenzied clapping. They had figured something out.

"Hey, Naruto! If you take up bartending, we can scrape by with about thirty-nine thousand a year!"

"How'd you fig'er all that out?" I whispered. My anger had killed my voice.

"We averaged in rent, utilities, food, insurance, meds, all that jazz. And as long as you stay out of the fuckin' hospital, we can pay everything." Kiba grinned, now crouched in front of me.

"Awesome."

"But, alas, we have bad news."

"What?"

"No more therapy." Fuck.

"Huh?"

"Well, legally, anyway." Sasuke stepped in. "I can continue to help you, but it will have to be once a week, and not at the office."

"I c'n live with that." We all exchanged smiles. Everything was going to be great.

Or so I hoped. I didn't know what further twists and turns my life was going to take. But, for the time being, I was going to bask in the idea of everything being alright.

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Satisfactory? Sorta cliffhanger-ish, but not as bad as last chapter. Further developments next chapter, I promise! 


	10. AUTHOR'S NOTE

**NOTE REVISED:**

Hey, Readers. I regret to inform you that this has been dropped. I lost my muse and was struggling with writers' block. This fandom simply doesn't pique my interests anymore.

This is officially up for adoption. If you feel up to the task, email me and I'll give you the basic outline of what's going to happen next. I really don't want this to die!

Love always,

The Author.


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